


Numbers on a Scale

by Avistella



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avistella/pseuds/Avistella
Summary: You feel that you’re too fat. Zen disagrees but is willing to help.





	Numbers on a Scale

You inwardly cringe and click your tongue when your eyes land upon the number on the scale underneath you, not budging in even the slightest. It’s too high. The number is far too high for your liking, and it frustrates you beyond imagination. No matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to be satisfied with your weight. Too much. There’s too much fat, and the numbers are too high.

“Oh, you’re so skinny,” people would comment on your figure, and you always somehow bring yourself to bite back your sarcastic remark, choosing not to say anything and instead respond with a strained smile.

Is that how others see you? Skinny? They’re wrong, though. They _have_ to be. Can’t they see all that unnecessary fat hanging off your body in the most unflattering ways? If you were to compare yourself to others, then sure, maybe you were skinnier than them, but that reflection in the mirror? Fat. Absolutely disgusting. Revolting. It should just disappear.

You place your palms flat on your stomach and feel your fingers curl to accomodate its shape. Your lips become marred with a frown, wishing that they wouldn’t have to behave as such if you had a flatter stomach. You wish your arms and legs could be more lean too and less flabby, once again scrunching your face up in disatisfaction towards your body.

Biting at your lower lip, you finish up in the washroom and leave with a heavy heart. You can only hope to put those negative thoughts away, but they always come back to haunt you whenever your eyes comes across your reflection in the abundant amount of mirrors that Zen has lying around his apartment. You once considered making a request to have him remove them or otherwise cover them with a cloth, but they were important for him, not just to stroke his own ego, but also great tools for his occupation as an actor.

Your feet pad against the floor as you head back towards the bedroom, your eyes downcast to avoid the body mirror on Zen’s side of the bed. You’ve lived with the actor long enough now to know where each and every single mirror is, your body moving on instinct to defend your heart from having to see your ugly self.

Zen’s quiet groan reaches your ears followed by a rustling of the sheets as he starts to wake up from his sleep. For a moment, you’re gratefully pulled out of your current thoughts when you remember the passionate night the two of you shared last night. It was definitely energetic, and the fact that you woke up earlier than the young man spoke volumes on just how truly spent he was.

The mattress dips underneath your weight as you sit down on the edge of the bed beside the actor, your hand reaching out to stroke the soft long locks scattered all around the pillows. Zen practically mewls at the touch, the corners of his lips curving into a smile as he nuzzles his face closer to your hand, drawing out a quiet giggle from your mouth.

“Good morning, handsome,” you greet the young man as he finally blinks his eyes open, your smiling face being the first thing to greet him this fine morning.

“G'morning…” he mumbles underneath his breath before forcing himself to sit up.

As per his usual ritual, Zen wraps his arms around your figure, pulling you close into a warm and loving embrace as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hug him back with just as much affection, enjoying the way you feel against his toned chest with his arms hanging loosely off of you. It’s one of the very few and rare cases where you feel content with your body. It feels as though you and Zen fit perfectly together without that nagging sense of being “too much”.

“Let me wash up a bit and then we can go eat breakfast,” the actor murmurs in your ear as he separates himself from you, already heading towards the washroom and missing the way your face falls at the thought of eating breakfast.

That unpleasant voice has returned now that Zen is temporarily out of the picture, and you fidget around slightly on the bed, playing with your fingers as you try to think of other things. It’s still morning, after all, and it’s too early to be dealing with this, but then again, you’ve been dealing with this annoying problem for a long time now.

You hear the door creak open, prompting you to snap your head up towards Zen. For a second, the young man looks confused, but then his eyebrows scrunch themselves together in obvious concern when he sees your failed attempt at hiding your distress. Exhaling a quiet sigh, you bow your head and bring your gaze back down to your interlocked fingers resting on your lap.

“I’m not…really in the mood to eat breakfast,” you tell him, “so I think I’ll skip it this time.”

Knowing full well where this is coming from, the actor shifts his weight to lean against the door frame, cocking his head to the side as he gently chides you, “It isn’t good for you to skip your meals, especially breakfast.”

Your teeth dig into the flesh of your bottom lip. Of course you know that, and Zen _knows_ that you know that, and it irks you. “I really don’t feel like eating,” you insist, unable to look into the actor’s eyes when you feel his piercing gaze upon you.

“We’ll eat later then,” Zen suggests, not letting up at all. “Until you feel like eating.”

“I really don’t…” Your words trail off and die on your tongue, not really sure where you were going with that sentence.

A heavy silence fills the room, and seconds tick by before Zen sighs to himself. He looks down at his own feet, a sense of uselessness washing over him. No matter how hard he tries, and no matter how many times he tells you, it feels as though he isn’t making any progress at all in helping you overcome your own self-deprecating judgement towards yourself.

“At the very least,” he starts, admitting defeat towards your own stubborness for this moment, “can you stay with me at the table while I eat? It’s more fun when you eat with someone.”

“Sure,” you agree with a soft murmur, offering a quick nod as you stand up and approach him. “I can do that.”

Zen musters up a small smile, taking hold of your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He starts to lead you towards the kitchen, and he decides to ask, “how much weight do you want to lose?”

Your cheeks flare with embarrassment and shame as you mumble out the number—a very large number, you think to yourself—and the actor hums quietly in response. He pauses with his footsteps, and you stare at him in anticipation since you know that he’s thinking of something to say. Whatever it is, you hope that it isn’t something like how you’ll always be beautiful in his eyes or something like that. As flattering as those comments may be, and as sincere as they may be, they don’t really help. If anything, they sometimes make you feel worse about yourself.

“I don’t think you’re fat,” Zen finally speaks up to break the silence, and you have to consciously stop yourself from rolling your eyes. But then he goes ahead and adds, “But if there’s anything that I can do to help, tell me and I’d be more than happy to do it. Whether it’s coming up with a specific diet or joining you in whatever exercises you wish to do, I want to help.”

You’re flabbergasted at his offer, and your jaw hangs open for a brief second before you regain yourself. “You’re not… You’re not going to tell me that what I’m doing is unhealthy or that I’m ‘beautiful enough already so I shouldn’t care’?”

The actor shoots you a wry smile as he answers, “Of course I’m going to tell you that it’s unhealthy, but that’s why I’m willing to help you think of better and healthier alternatives. And of course I think you’re beautiful. You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid my eyes on, but it means a lot to you, doesn’ it? _You_ care, don’t you? So why should I tell you not to? If you care, then I should too instead of trying to tell you not to, right?”

“I…” You can’t find the words, your chest clenching at the rising emotions within you.

“I said before that it’s more fun when you eat with someone. It’s more fun if you have someone with you as you try to reach your goal too,” Zen continues, pulling you towards him to minimize the space between the both of you. His hands lie on your hips as he dips his head to kiss the crown of your head. “Two is better than one.”


End file.
